Before I Fade Away
by DagazUruz
Summary: Our dear Hunter finds himself out of luck when he is attacked. To survive the hunt,sometimes you must become a beast yourself. The question is, can you be a man AND a beast?
The hunter lay in the grass, golden eyes cast to the bloody moon above. In Hemwick Charnal Lane, he found the witches. He found them, and they found him. He raked a shaky hand through his shaggy, black hair. His fingers came away coated in crimson. He looked through his fingers; the moon was visible through a filter of even more red. He sighed, "No more blood vials…" he whispered, daring not draw any attention. He took inventory of what little he had left. A few coins, a few pebbles, various blood stones. There was nothing of much use if he had to fight again.

The hunter, Evryn, sat up slowly. The motion made his head spin and his stomach churn. Where he had been lying, a puddle of red coagulated. He looked himself over. Could he make it to the lantern? He doubted he could make it even halfway, bleeding as much as he was. A fight with another hunter amidst the witches had broken his resolve and his body. His weapon, Ludwig's Holy Blade, wasn't looking in very good condition either. He stood slowly, swaying on his feet. He had to keep moving.

He had only taken a few steps before he heard it, the faint chiming of a bell. "Damn it all." he muttered, looking for a place to hide. He found nothing. The tall grass would not hide him. He held his blade at the ready. If he could not hide, he had no choice but to fight - even if he was sure to lose.

Evryn watched as a man crested the hill, looking in all directions for his prey. The man was bulky built, at least 6 feet tall. He wore no helmet, so his long brown hair blew in the light wind. Evryn tensed as the man's eyes - so pale a blue they were almost white - settled on him. "Evryn Crowley, I had hoped I would come across you, Enemy of my people and the only to best Rosalyn the Crimson Rose."The man's voice was like gravel, "I am Sir Lucius Drake. Prepare to die." He raised his weapon, the mighty Boom Hammer.

Evryn looked Lucius over. The man was, in every way, his enemy. He bore the silver armor of the Vilebloods, Evryn wore the cloak of the Executioners. Lucius wielded the weaponry of the early heretics who would become the powder kegs; he used the blade of a member of the church. Even more so, this Lucius was a friend and ally of Rosalyn, a woman who haunted his every step. Even now, he could recall the malevolent look in her black eyes. He could never be sure what he had done to earn her ire, but what man DID know how he scorned a woman?

Lucius lunged, very quickly for a man of his size. Evryn dodged the blow but his vision swam. He countered, slashing at Lucius's chest. The blade hit its mark but slid off the armor. Evryn grunted his distaste. Lucius swung his hammer again, fire rising from its charge. Though Evryn dodged the blow, he felt the heat of the discharge, knew his hair had probably been singed.

The two men danced in this manner for some time, neither able to land a definitive blow to the other. Both had slowed, showing signs of fatigue. They stood, staring one another down.

Evryn wiped sweat quickly from his brow as he went in for another strike. At last, his blade found purchase. He felt the tender flesh of his opponent beneath his armor. Lucius growled low in his throat, blood seeping through the new opening in his defense. With a mighty swing, he sent Evryn flying backwards. Evryn had attempted to block the blow; he felt his blade crack under the pressure. He stood on shaky limbs.

"Not, much left in you now." Lucius called, stepping towards him. "You're weapon is useless, no blood vials. Surrender now and I'll make it quick." _The man was mocking him now_ , Evryn thought. He could not surrender, would not. Both knew it. Lucius stopped a few feet away.

Evryn looked up at his enemy, saw the gash in his side. He could smell the blood. His head swam again, his eyes blurred. He could smell the blood, so coppery and…. inviting. He lunged at Lucius, taking him off guard and buried his face in the larger man's neck. Lucius scrambled to knock him away, dropped his weapon and stumbled. Evryn sank his teeth into Lucius's exposed neck. _Idiot should have worn a helmet. There are beasts out here,_ Evryn thought. Lucius screamed in agony, fell backwards over a root. Evryn dug deeper, relishing the blood. He began to claw at the exposed skin of Lucius's face and shook his head as a dog would. Blood gushed from Lucius's ruined throat. The man rained blows on Evryn's head and shoulders but could not dislodge him. After a moment, Lucius was quiet and still.

His thirst sated, Evryn let go of his prey. His wounds closed slowly. His vision returned. He looked down at Lucius and fell to his knees. "What have I done?" he muttered as the body faded - returning to the dream. "Gods, what have I done?!" He felt sick; his stomach roiled. He tried to purge the foreign blood, but his own body would not allow it. It NEEDED the blood. HE needed the blood.

Witches had come into the area, drawn by the screams. He could hear them shambling about. They came near but did not bother him. Was he like them now? Was he a… Beast? He looked himself over. He had sprouted no fur. His limbs and hands looked normal. But the blood… He could still taste it. It stained the front of his cloak, his face.

Evryn knelt there on the Lane. For the first time since the nightmare began he prayed to the gods, the Ancient ones, the moon, the church, anyone he thought might be listening. Would he be hunted now, by the Hunters of Hunters, those dreaded beings clad in crow feathers? Would Eileen understand? He had helped her in her last moments. Could she forgive his sins? Another thought his him. He had drunk the vitae of a Vileblood. Was he one of them now? Would the Church hunt him now? He didn't feel any different. Not yet, anyway. He only felt sick and disgusted at his own actions.

He stood slowly, this time his legs shook not from fatigue or pain, but fear. He turned on his heels and headed back the way he had come. He could press forward another day. He suddenly felt very tired. He would return to the dream and rest, regain himself. He knew he must do so, lest everything that made him human would die out here. "I must get home and away from here, before I fade away…."


End file.
